


Life Imitating Art

by flightinflame



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blind Character, Blindfolds, Grief/Mourning, Hurt Scott, Loss of Powers, M/M, Morning Sex, Resurrection, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Scent Marking, Switching, Temporary Character Death, protective Logan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:35:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21634516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flightinflame/pseuds/flightinflame
Summary: It's been three years since Scott lost Logan and his sight in a mission that went wrong. In that time, he's learned to sculpt, to try and give himself a purpose now that he's off the team. His current work, a statue to memorialise his deceased partner, is his proudest achievement - until it disappears, and in its place is a very familiar man.
Relationships: Erik Lehnsherr/Charles Xavier, Logan (X-Men)/Scott Summers, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 30
Kudos: 164
Collections: Marvel Reverse Big Bang 2019





	Life Imitating Art

**Author's Note:**

> Incredible artwork by Crow-Sizna, whose tumblr can be found [here](https://crow-sizna.tumblr.com/).
> 
> Betaed by [IreneADonovan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IreneADonovan/pseuds/IreneADonovan)

  
Scott reached for the damp clay, his fingers running over the form he was shaping, memorising it, ensuring everything was as it should be. It had been his brother's idea, taking up sculpture. Give him something to do, to focus on something that wasn't the pain. He'd never done well without a purpose. 

It did help him, being able to make something with his hands. It gave him a sense of purpose he couldn't find elsewhere. It wasn't ideal. It certainly wasn't something he'd ever imagined before - but then before, he had been one of the X-Men. Their leader, the one that everyone always relied on when things weren't going well, and now... now no one relied on him. He found himself having to rely on others, and he hated it.

So he had turned to sculpture for comfort. It had been awkward at first, fumbling his fingers through the clay, trying to shape something he couldn’t see. He made pots that were lopsided or wonky, which fell apart after a few hours. More than once he'd ended up screaming in frustration, throwing his work at the wall or on the floor, hearing the sodden thump it made and then sitting there crying, sick with shame and anger.

But he'd improved. From those first shaky pots made in the hospital bed, newly stripped of his powers and his sight, he'd started to make creatures, symbols, gifts. Three years on, he'd started to make bigger forms, using wire armatures and then covering them with the clay. People praised his work, and sometimes he thought they actually meant it. Alex had visited earlier, with Hope and Kevin, and they'd all said how good his current project was, how lifelike. He'd thanked them, and then waited until they had left before he began to cry. Sculpture didn't stop the pain he was in. He didn't think anything would ever free him from that pain, didn't think he'd ever move past it or forget it. But it did mean that, at least for a little while, he was distracted. Sadly that seemed to be all he could dream of now.

It was meant to be an easy mission. The same as so many others, just a simple retrieval of some mutant children from scientists who thought that they would be able to get away with carrying out experiments. He hadn't expected the boy that they'd been torturing to stop their abilities in their tracks, hadn't known until too late that they would be captured. 

The professor had managed to send an alert before he'd been overwhelmed, warning the others that there was danger. Ororo had led the rescue, and they'd saved the children and the boy. But it had taken them four days to find a way to do it which wouldn't get them captured as well. And by then it was too late for the first team. The scientists had tested them beyond breaking point. The professor's back had been shattered, meaning he now used a wheelchair, and had pushed his telepathy so far that for weeks afterward he'd flinched if anyone got too close, the noise of their thoughts deafening. Only Magneto, wearing his helmet, had been able to offer comfort.

One of their 'researchers' had been particularly interested in Scott's mutation and had tortured him, stealing both his ability and his sight and leaving him scarred. That, all of that, would have been survivable. Scott would no longer have been able to play a role in leading the X-Men, but he'd have found something he could do to help. He would have taught the children, or worked with politicians. He'd have found a purpose. He'd have stayed a hero.

But taking his sight was by no means the worst of what had happened. The worst was the emptiness beside him when he woke up, the silence when he wanted to sit down and read, the way his pillows no longer smelt of cigar smoke. On the third day of testing, they'd found that Logan couldn't survive being drowned. He hadn't seen it, too injured by then, but he'd heard it.

Scott couldn't let himself think about that. It hurt, the wound still too raw.

When the Professor had first suggested this project, he'd refused outright. He knew his sculpture would never capture Logan's true nature, his sheer presence. More than that, though, he hadn't wanted to share his grief, hoarding it against his heart, not wanting to cut it open again by reminding himself of his loss. 

It was Alex that had changed his mind. He'd understood that Scott wasn't ready to make a sculpture for the school of the first of the X-Men to die in the line of duty. But he'd sat there, and put his arm around Scott's shoulder the way he had when they were kids.  
"You should make it. Just for you. I know you miss him."

"It won't... it won't be him." Scott had whispered, and felt Alex squeeze him tighter. 

"I know. Just think about it. Either way, I bet he'd love your work."

"He'd accuse me of being a pretentious fuck," Scott said, managing a weak smile as he remembered his one attempt at visiting an art gallery with Logan. 

"That's because you are a pretentious fuck," Alex answered, and if he sounded a little choked up, Scott could ignore it. Alex hadn't mentioned the sculpture again. A week later, Scott had started work on it.

***

Now the piece was almost complete, and Scott wasn't sure he wanted to finish it. Stepping away from it, stopping crafting his lover's memory, would be just another way of saying goodbye. 

The two of them had always been tactile. Even when their relationship had just been physical, they'd always touched, always shoving each other and shouting and gripping too tightly. As though they couldn't let the other one slip away.

"It should have been me," Scott whispered as he smoothed the line of the figure's jaw, shaping it, remembering how warm Logan's skin had been. "It was meant to be me, I... you weren't meant to leave me." His voice cracked slightly at that, and he took a few deep breaths. 

"Bet you'd laugh at this," he muttered, his words echoing around the empty room. "Me getting emotional about a statue. It's meant to get easier. That's what you told me." Logan had lost so many people, so much of himself, so many memories. And one day Scott was going to be another, passing on even if Logan's memories held. They'd talked about it, late at night, passing beers between them, when their relationship had still been blurry. When they were just two guys that worked together, and fucked, and argued and shoved and left each other aching.

It had never ached like this.

Scott brushed his fingers along the curve of Logan's lips. 

He knew it was strange, but he wanted to keep Logan with him. He'd learned to map out the room by the sounds it made, the way things echoed, which of the wooden floorboards creaked the loudest. He'd learned every noise his room made. He wanted Logan's form, Logan's memory, to form part of that.

It was Raven and her wife that had convinced him to remain at the school, and the Professor that had organised a suite of rooms for him away from the rest. Irene had taken some time to help him with his new life, helped him realise what he could still do. And he chose to stay. He had no where else to go, this place had always been his home. He hated how helpless he felt at times, but this was still the only place he could go. It wasn't like he could just jump on his motorbike and ride off into the sunset.

He curled up on the floor, resting his head against the legs of the statue. They were dry, solid. It didn't feel anything like Logan had. But the form of him was a comfort. He could already hear how the room sounded different, the way everything echoed was changed by Logan's presence. Logan had always had that effect, always made himself the centre of Scott's senses. Even now, that hadn't changed. 

He stayed there for a while, until he realised it was getting late. He pushed his watch.  
'It is nine twenty two p.m.' it announced, in its dull robotic voice.

"I...guess I'd better make some food." He muttered, heading towards the kitchen. He knew the layout, and what was there, and he set about making himself some pasta, adding some frozen vegetables and then grating cheese over the top. He ate it, then did the washing up before something could get misplaced. He returned to his studio, tracing his fingers across the strands of the statue's hair. 

Logan would never have stood still enough for him to do that.

He took a deep breath. Maybe he'd reconsider the Professor's request, and make another statue for the school. He'd make sure Logan was dressed in that one, work on sculpting fabrics so that he could get the uniform right. But he wanted to keep this memory to himself. He headed to his bedroom, lingering for a moment, turning sightless eyes back towards the statue.  
"Goodnight," he whispered, going to wash up, spend some time listening to audio books, and then get into bed.

He put the sleep mask on, even though he didn't need it anymore. His powers would never damage anything again. But he couldn't fall asleep without that familiar pressure against his face, the reassurance when he woke up from a nightmare that things were alright, even when they weren't.

***

The floorboards creaked. They didn't normally, not like that. He fumbled for his watch.  
'It is two forty eight a.m.' 

It was almost three in the morning, and something felt wrong. He didn't know what it was - after a few moments, the creaking stopped, but the back of his neck was tingling.

He thought of calling for the Professor but pushed it aside. He was fairly sure it was one of the teenagers, testing themselves to see if they could sneak up on someone who had once led the team. 

He'd show them he could handle whatever they wanted to throw at them.

He stepped down from the bed, floorboards groaning beneath his feet, and reached for the baseball bat that Alex had left with him, gripping it tightly as he stepped out.

The echoes were wrong. He took another step forwards, and another, holding the bat out in front of him. He knew this room, knew it perfectly. This was where he'd been standing only a few hours ago as he worked on his piece. The bat clattered to the floor as he reached out.

The statue was gone.

His fingers reached out into empty air, grabbing for where it should have been.

This was too much. It had become somewhat of a rite of passage among the students to sneak into his rooms, move around some of his stuff, generally prove that they were able to use their powers to sneak up on someone who had once led the team. Alex had wanted to skin the kids alive for attempting that, but Scott got it. Some small part of him was almost flattered that he was still seen as a challenge. He'd permitted it, within reason. It was good for the students to test their skills.

But this... this wasn't alright. This was pushing too far. He tried to think through the class list. Kitty would be one option, but the young girl wasn't the type. A teleporter perhaps - although Irene's son wouldn't do that. Surely not someone with destructive powers. Surely none of them hated him that much. He started to gasp, feeling himself crumbling to dust. He couldn't lose Logan, not again.

There were footsteps behind him, and he knew he had dropped his weapon and he couldn't bring himself to care. If the students hated him that much, if they'd take away the slight comfort he'd made, he couldn't care any more.

The footsteps approached, and he could hear someone standing nearby, inhaling. He crouched down, searching for the baseball bat. His fingertips brushed it, and it rolled across the floor. He reached after it, scrambling until he was once again armed, cursing himself for letting it go. 

This didn't feel like a child. The sounds of the person circling him were too heavy. This was someone fully grown. He could strike out, or call the professor for help, but something made him wait. He was afraid that he'd call out and it would just be another nightmare - he'd had those to start with. It had been a long time, but the Professor and the other teachers defended the school. This was just a practical joke gone wrong, or a bad dream. He stood up, clearing his throat.  
"I know you're here." Behind the sleeping mask, his eyes were closed, as he concentrated on listening, mapping the room, searching for anyone else. 

"Cyke?" came a voice, and he staggered slightly, hand raising up, trying to remember where he was. Because he knew that voice. He knew it, and it wasn't possible, and of all the tricks for his mind to be playing, this was the cruellest. He swung out with the bat, half-expecting to collide with the statue.

Something gripped the other end, pulled it out of his grasp, and he stumbled, raising his hands so he could throw a punch.  
"Easy, Cyke,” the voice said, and there was laughter, and a hand grabbing his arm. He turned towards it, calculating where the man's face would be, and punched.

His fist collided with flesh.

"Fucking hell!" the voice shouted as the hand on his arm let go. "That hurt!"

There was a moment's pause, and then he was being shoved backwards, onto the sofa, strong hands gripping his arms and stopping him from escaping. He tried to thrash his way out.

"Breathe. Fuck, Scott, breathe, you're having a nightmare or somethin’. Fuck," Thick fingers were touching his face. "Deep breaths, okay? You with me?"

Silently, Scott nodded. His mind was racing. Some kind of illusionist perhaps, or a bad dream, or a shape changer. Whoever it was, right now he was blind and trapped, and he was going to have to pretend to be calm so that they'd give him some space. He mentally reached out for the Professor.

"You with me now?" the voice asked, and a kiss brushed his forehead, and he could have screamed. Only then the weight that was pinning him moved to the side, settled down next to him, threw an arm around his shoulder.

"I... you know I'm bad at talking." the voice started, and Scott nodded. "But... like, whatever you just dreamed about, you're messed up." There was a pause, and then a snort. "Slim, what the fuck did you do to your hair?" And that, that laughter sounded so much like Logan that Scott sobbed. There was no point reaching out to the Professor. Not if he could have this, for however long the dream or illusion lasted. It was selfish and it was weak, but this was all he had longed for. He didn't want it to finish. He leaned against the other man's shoulder, feeling the strength of him there, just like he remembered.

He felt him sniffing in his hair, and didn't try and pull away.  
"You're crying,” the voice stated, blunt as always. He wanted it so much to be him, but he couldn't bring himself to explain that. "Come on. What'd I do?"

"You..." Scott sighed. "You left. Again."

"I came back,” the voice answered, and Scott wanted that. It couldn't be real. He pushed his watch, hoping the time would have jumped, that he'd have proof this was all just a weird dream.  
'It is two fifty seven a.m.'

"New watch?" the voice asked, and Scott nodded. The illusion even smelled like him, and it was easy to turn towards it, to press his face against the solid reality of the illusion's chest, to feel familiar fingers brushing through his hair. He started to cry, silently.

"I can smell you cryin' still," the voice said, and it wasn't gentle exactly - that voice never managed gentle. But it was caring. He felt his head being lifted slightly, and he swallowed, gulped for air, and a sob escaped from him, almost desperately. He knew he was shaking.

"Fuck... I'm naked and you're cryin', and this really ain't how I wanted the night to go," the voice was saying, one hand resting on his side, and Scott wanted it to be real, more than he could say.

"You... you're naked?" He asked.

"Yeah, Cyke, I'm naked. If you'd been smart and grabbed your visor rather than goin' out to tackle me in your mask and with a baseball bat, you'd know I was naked, could be enjoying the view..."

Scott shook his head.  
"I miss you," he admitted. He knew this was a dream. But he needed to say it, because the fact was, he did miss him. He missed him all the time, same as he missed his powers, same as he missed his sight. The world didn't feel right without Logan here. And if his mind or some illusionist was giving him a chance, he didn't wanna let it pass by.

"'M right here now Slim. Come on. Let's get you back to bed, okay?" the voice asked, then there was a pause. "...Cyke, where the fuck are we?"

"My room." Scott hadn't been able to face staying in their room. Too many memories. Too many echoes.

"Your room huh? I get kicked out?" The voice was thoughtful. "You got any clothes I can fit in?"

"Bottom drawer of the wardrobe," Scott answered quickly. He'd kept some of it, mostly Logan's shirts because they still smelled of him. At least, they had, and then he'd held them and cried into them so often the smell had faded.

"You stay sat right there okay, Cyke? I'll be right back." The figure moved away, and Scott found himself shivering uncontrollably from the cold. 

He heard the figure lumbering around the room, not sure where it was going, until it found the bedroom. He heard some muttering, and then there was a pause, before the figure returned. It sat down on the sofa, but didn't reach out for Scott immediately. There was a pause.  
"You want to get closer?" he asked, and Scott nodded, shuffling towards the sound of the voice. An arm slung over his shoulder, and for a few moments they just sat there, side by side, breathing slowly.

The voice cleared its throat.  
"Cyke?"

"Yeah?"

There was a pause, and a big hand rested against his hip, stroking over the flannel of his pyjama pants. He rested his hand on top of the figure's own, feeling a familiar scar on the finger, and then pressing his fingertips at the point where the claws extended, feeling the faint bumps of metal beneath when the figure obligingly tensed, bringing them towards the surface but not piercing the skin. It was a familiar gesture, and he pushed down just for a split second, hearing the slight hiss of breath before he returned to stroking the skin.  
"How long have I been gone?" the voice asked, and there was nothing malicious there, nothing angry. It sounded almost lost. 

"What...what do you mean?" Scott asked, attempting to buy himself some time.

"I mean, your hair's different. Your body's different too. You're not wearing your visor, your watch fucking talks, you're in a different room. There's a whole bunch of stuff that's changed, and you're shaking."

"What do you remember last?" Scott asked.

"I remember those fuckers hurting you. Remember that Chuck was laying on the floor with his spine shattered. And I remember that leader of theirs walking over and..." The voice paused, and then Scott found himself lifted up, positioned so that he was sat on the figure's lap. A large hand brushed his hair, then a thumb stroked his jaw, tilting his head so that if not for the blindfold the figure would have been looking into his eyes.  
"Look. Just tell me. How long have I been gone?"

Scott hesitated, wanting to pull away, wanting to stay in the figure's grasp and pretend forever.  
"Tell me something only you'd know."

"You snore," the voice answered quickly. "And you don't like it if someone's between you and the door when you're asleep. Come on, Cyke. Please, tell me. How long have I been gone?"

It was madness or a dream, but Scott still answered.  
"It's been three years."

There was another pause. A long pause, long enough that if the figure hadn't had its arms wrapped around him Scott would have thought he was alone. But that grip continued, fingers that were not shaped for gentleness running up and down his arms. He could feel the figure behind him breathing deeply, the movement reverberating through his body.

"You're tellin' the truth."

Scott nodded, trying to pretend he wasn't shaking.

"The fuckers," the voice muttered, and the fingers tightened slightly, pressing into his skin - not harsh enough to leave a mark, but feeling real, solid. It helped pull Scott back into his body when his fear and disorientation was trying to pull him away from it. "What happened?"

"I'm dreaming." Scott said softly. He hated breaking the illusion, but it was the truth, and even if it hurt it would be better to know than not to. He shuddered, gasping as he suddenly felt a blade brush his arm, not hard enough to break the skin.

"You're not dreaming. I'm back." The voice sounded so sure of itself, so certain it knew what was happening. He could have sobbed. After a few moments he tried to squirm out of the grip, turning to face him.  
"You left me," he muttered, and his voice was shaking now, thick with hurt. "You... you weren't meant to die. You weren't meant to let them kill you and leave-"

Lips brushed his, just for a second, and as he gasped, the voice whispered against his lips.  
'Came back now.'

He didn't want to wake up, but it felt real. He was still afraid it'd be an illusion or some other trick, but he so badly wanted it to be real. Even the lips felt the same, and he leaned in, pressing a kiss to the figure's throat, as Logan's arms wrapped around his waist.  
"I'm not the same man you left," he admitted, pressing his face against the side of Logan's neck, feeling his hand run down his spine. 

"Those bastards hurt you."

"Yeah," Scott agreed.

"That's why you're..." There was a pause, and fingers tapped against the side of his blindfold. "What did they do?"

"I can't see any more," Scott admitted, feeling himself tensing. He had always believed his worth lay in being useful. Winters had taught him that young. His head was tilted up, and he felt two brushes against the blindfold, one over each eye. Logan had kissed him. He shivered. That wasn't the worst, and he didn't know how Logan would react to it.  
"I can't use my ability any more and ... I'm probably dreaming this. This... I don't..." He shook his head. It was too much, too hard to put into words especially when he was sure none of this was actually happening, even if it wanted to be.

"You off the team?" Logan asked. It could have sounded brutal, but that team had meant a lot to Scott. Logan knew that. This was his own way of showing he cared.

"Yes," Scott mumbled, and he felt Logan pull a blanket around his shoulders. It took a couple of moments before he was able to speak. "I can't use my ability Logan. I can't... I can get around the mansion, and I can go out, but it's hard. And I have this room, and everyone's been so patient and nice and-"

"Sounds fucking awful." Logan interrupted. "Having to deal with everyone pussy-footing around you like you're something broken."

"I am something broken."

"Irene can't see."

Scott laughed faintly, but nodded his head. "I know Irene can't see. I mean... I lost you. That... that meant I could no longer ... there was no point."

"You got me now." Logan muttered, pressing another kiss to Scott's lips. "Look, I need some time okay? I... apparently missed three years, which is kind of a big thing, and you.... you're still the same old Boy Scout, but ... we need to work this out. First thing tomorrow, we talk to Chuck, see what he thinks is going on, and use that as the first step."

"...You're really trying to work out a plan?"

"Don't think slashing my claws at stuff is going to help right this instant." Logan answered. "You wanna go to bed now?"

"Yeah. You come with me?"

"Scott, you know I ain't..." He hesitated, and Scott tensed for what was coming next. "You know I'm not really a good bed partner if you don't want to be stabbed." Scott didn't answer, and after a moment Logan continued. "I'm willing to try, okay? I'll stay up and look after you, and then in the morning we can talk."

"You need sleep."

"No. Right now, I need to look after you." Logan insisted, and then Scott found himself lifted off of the couch, held against the breadth of Logan's chest. "Just let me do this tonight, okay Cyke. Let me make you feel safe, because fuck knows you got through three years without it, and you deserve the night off."

Scott felt Logan take a few steps, until they were in the bedroom, and he was placed down on his bed, feeling the slightly wonky spring which meant he was in the middle of it. He turned slightly, placing his front towards the door - even if he couldn't see, he didn't want to feel defenceless. There was a brief pause, before the bed sunk and Logan climbed in behind him. He found himself pulled back against a strong chest, the warmth of Logan's body a contrast to the crisp chill of the bed sheets. He could smell Logan's scent, his body bracketing Scott's. 

Logan's fingers traced the outline of Scott's muscles, guiding him to breathe when Logan did, slowing him, soothing him until he was dozing in Logan's arms. With his familiar sleep mask on, it was easy to imagine that everything was as its should be, that he was just in bed with Logan the way he had been so long before. He shifted his legs a little, rearranging himself so that his hands could rest against Logan's arms, his legs resting directly on top of Logan's own. He knew from past experience he'd probably shift during the night and tangle them further, but this was at least a start.

He took slow deep breaths, and reminded himself he wasn't alone any more. For so long his bed had felt empty, his own breath echoing strangely without the sound of Logan's accompanying it - and now those strong arms were around him once more. He was being watched over, and he fell asleep, knowing that for once he was protected.

***

Scott woke up slowly, Logan's body pressed close against him, his erection rubbing against Scott's hip.  
"Good morning..." he murmured, still sleepy.

"Didn't wake you did I?" Logan asked, fingers tracing circles on Scott's side, and then leaning up to kiss Scott, and yes they had morning breath but Scott didn't mind, not when Logan was there, firm and solid and real against him. Scott was still wearing his sleep mask, and he knew deep down that it wouldn't change anything if he took it off, but he'd been tired for so long. He could allow himself this. 

He rocked back against Logan's hips, pretending this was like any other day, when he had woken with his sleep mask to find Logan already awake and interested. This wouldn't be the first time Logan hadn't wanted to wait for him to find a visor, and even if he didn't need his visor now, this was at least familiar.  
"What do you want, Slim?" Logan whispered in his ear. "Going to make you feel good, it's just how...want to see what works ... you been with anyone since I last-"

Scott shook his head, leaning up again, tilting his head for another desperate kiss. It was more teeth than tongue, but it was real, and he needed it to be real. He twisted, bringing his front into contact with Logan's, their erections pressed together through the fabric of his sleepwear and the denim trousers Logan had picked, and he began to rock his hips, reaching out to fumble with the buttons on Logan's pants as he pressed his face into Logan's shoulder.

He felt his hips being lifted slightly, his trousers and underwear being moved down. He heard a plastic cap clicking, and then Logan was stroking them, one hand wrapped around both of their lengths, as his other hand buried itself in Scott's long hair.

"Let me hear you, Cyke. Fuck, you sound good. It's been too long. Let me hear it." Logan was muttering, a constant stream of filthy words hissed into Scott's ear. Sharp teeth bit down, and his hips bucked, a wave of pleasure sweeping through him. Scott cried out, Logan's name on his lips. 

He heard Logan swear, felt him move a few more times before more heat splashed against Scott's skin. He could feel Logan's breath on his face, sniffing him, could picture the almost feral smugness in his eyes as he looked him over, kissing him again before gathering Scott up into his arm and heading to the shower.

Scott let Logan wash him, shivering a little at the attention, wondering how he had forgotten so much of how Logan was, the way he acted, the soft kisses he bestowed on Scott's shoulders as they stood there together. For just a little while, he could pretend that it was all alright.

Eventually, Logan pulled him out from under the spray.  
"You wear those all the time?" Logan asked, his fingertips tapping on the blindfold.

"Normally not. Just to sleep."

"Okay. And if you take them off you won't hit me with a beam?"

"That was once." Scott answered, almost laughing. "I'll be careful." It was easier to joke about it than to admit the long time he'd spent in rehabilitation, trying to make himself accept he was powerless. 

The water was turned off, and a towel put around his waist.  
"Logan, can you put things back where they were?"

"Sure." There was the sound of shuffling behind him, then strong arms around his waist once more. "So, do I get to see those eyes?"

"I..." Scott hesitated, and shivered as Logan pressed a kiss to his forehead. He didn't know if he was strong enough for Logan to see the scars. Alex had said they didn't look that bad, but then, Alex had to say that, he was his brother.

"You don't got to," Logan promised, pressing his face against Scott's shoulder as he ran his fingers up and down Scott's sides. "Just like seeing you."

Scott nodded slowly. It just didn't feel real, any of it. Last night he'd headed to bed and everything had been normal. He'd been proud of what he was doing to memorialise Logan, but he'd certainly never expected this. And while the blindfold stayed on, it was easy to pretend this was a dream, that things were still the way they'd been before.

"Can we get dressed first?" Scott muttered. He thought that might be easier, the layers of clothing making him feel a little less vulnerable than before.

"Sure thing boy-scout," Logan joked. "You still don't feel proper having me around with my junk out?"

"I think you're going to scratch yourself one of these days and regret it." Scott muttered, and Logan snorted slightly. Scott managed a faint smirk. "Plus I don't like the idea of missing out on the view."

"You're welcome to touch," Logan shot back, and Scott laughed as Logan guided him back to his bed - their bed, if this stayed, if this was real. Logan kissed him again, and nuzzled against his throat, licking the sensitive skin there, making Scott squirm.

"Stop it." Scott said with mock-severity. "I need to get dressed and you're not helping." 

"Just makin' sure you smell like me." Logan answered, and Scott normally would have teased him for his caveman instincts, but after so long without Logan he could allow him to indulge in his primitive behaviour at least for a little while. Eventually he pushed him away and went to his wardrobe, dressing quickly.

"You're good at that."

"I can hardly wait for someone to come in and dress me each day." Scott muttered, the words coming out harsher than he'd intended them to. He heard Logan's footsteps approach, and then Logan was embracing him, the fabric he was wearing brushing Scott's hands.

"Shit. Sorry, I didn't... I mean Cyke, I got no idea how to handle this. I mean, I get with Irene, don't start shit or her girlfriend will punch me, but..."

"It's okay," Scott answered after a moment. "Just.... I can do things. Especially here, okay, this is my place... our place. And I... I won't cope, if you act like I can't."

"I know you can Cyke. You're so fucking strong." Logan muttered. 

Scott didn't answer that, just went to sit on the bed and reached up to unfasten the blindfold. There were times when he imagined it was the same as it had been before, and he would keep his eyes shut for a long time when he took the blindfold off, afraid and hopeful. But today he knew he wouldn't see Logan, even though he could feel his presence close, and he wouldn't be putting him at risk. 

He peeled away the fabric, and Logan leaned closer. Logan's thumbs brushed over the scars on his face, and his hand cupped his chin, tilting his head a little before pressing a kiss over each eye, and then to his lips.  
"Still handsome as ever, Cyke."

"And you?" Scott asked, lifting his hand and hesitating until Logan pressed his face against his fingers. Scott explored it, feeling it carefully, tracing out lines he recalled, that he had sculpted.

"How did I come back?" Logan asked, twisting towards Scott's fingers so he could kiss his fingertips. "I mean, three years... that's way longer than I've come back from before."

"Can... can we just... not yet. Not now,” Scott whispered. "Just let me have it while it lasts, okay?"

"Sure. Yeah. If that's what you need. We should talk to Chuck, okay? Go and bother him, see what he can work out. Then I can take you back here and we can have a proper reunion."

"We'll see what the Professor says, and then if this is... if he agrees you're you, you're going to have a lot of people who missed you. Rogue's doing well. And Irene's pregnant."

"Irene's what- Whose is it?"

"Raven's," Scott answered, clearing his throat because he didn't want to think about that too much. 

Logan whistled and laughed.  
"Well good on them. Come on, let's go see whether Chuck's glad to see my ugly face again."

Scott nodded, standing up and holding his hand out towards where Logan had been.

Logan hesitated.  
"How the fuck do I do this? Like... do I grab you or-"

"Hold out your arm, or hand on my waist, or take my hand." Scott instructed with a sigh. "Same as Irene."

"I don't put my hand on Irene's waist, because I don't want Raven to rip my balls off," Logan muttered, but his hand ran down Scott's side, brushing against it. Scott knew he'd lost some muscle after the past few years, but he didn't comment on it, just followed Logan out of the room. 

It didn't take him long to realise they were going the wrong way. He froze, and Logan tugged him slightly.  
"Where are you going Slim? Office is-"

"The office moved," Scott explained, taking a moment to lean against the solidness of Logan's form. "When you died, the Professor's spine was broken. So he's moved the office. Apparently the view's better now." Scott laughed slightly, but Logan didn't. 

Scott shook his head, leaning down to find Logan's cheek and press a kiss there.  
"Sorry. Too soon?"

"Just give me a bit to get used to it, okay Cyke? I'll get there, just... damn." Logan's thumb brushed a path from his ear to his eye, where the visor had once rested.

"We better hurry up. I want to talk to the Professor before your return is announced by someone catching us flirting in a corridor." Scott pointed out, taking a breath and then leading Logan down to the correct corridor. Everything sounded different when Logan was beside him, his footsteps joining Scott's, but this would be a good adjustment to make. He paused outside the Professor's office, and raised his hand.

Before he could make contact with the door, a familiar voice spoke in his mind.  
_Come in, both of you. It's been a long time._

"Still weird." Logan muttered as he shoved the door open. He took a step forwards, and then paused. "The fuck is this?"

"What?" Scott frowned, making his way forwards. The professor had sounded calm, and nothing felt like it was out of place - he could hear the rhythmic clicking of that desk ornament that meant Erik was bored, and papers were shuffling on the desk.

"Magneto's here."

"I am, very astute of you," came the reply from the direction of the couch, and Scott managed a faint smile. 

"Erik's presence is hardly a surprise. He's been rather determined to help me ever since he saved my life and helped me through my rehabilitation." The Professor sounded perfectly calm, as though Logan's presence was an everyday occurrence, even as all Scott could think of was how out of the ordinary this was. It was almost as though the past three years had been a dream, and he had never heard the sound of his lover dying. He shuddered, and wrapped an arm around Logan.

A soothing wave of calm from the Professor steadied him a little, before the older man spoke. "It is your presence that is something of a surprise, Logan. I must admit I wasn't expecting to see you animate again. We'd laid you to rest, and had rather accepted that this time you weren't coming back."

"I ain't that easy to get rid of." Logan answered.

"Apparently not. Now, I want to talk to you about what's happened, and where we go from here, and I'd like some privacy for that. Erik, Scott, could you two please go outside for a moment, just while the two of us work out how we will be handing this?"

Scott nodded, turning and making his way back the way he had come, one hand a little ahead of him in case he bumped into something, until Magneto offered him his elbow. He took it, letting the older man guide him from the room.

When they were outside, Erik paused.  
"How are you feeling?"

"Scared," Scott admitted. "I don't know if he's back to stay, and I'm not ready to lose him again, does that make sense? I just keep thinking I'll turn around and he'll be gone."

"I understand that." Erik answered. "I had that for a long time after Charles's injury. But he's recovered. And maybe this doesn't make sense, but you've got him back now. Don't let yourself waste whatever time you have because you're more worried about what comes next."

"I can try," Scott answered after a moment. He doubted that he would manage, but it sounded like a good idea in theory, and he was willing to discuss it. "I just don't know... I mean. He was clay. I was worried he'd melt in the shower."

Erik laughed softly at that. "I believe that Kevin and Hope might have had something to do with Logan's return. But perhaps just allow yourself to enjoy it, rather than second guessing it all the time."

"You really think he's going to be here to stay?" Scott asked, hoping his voice sounded steadier than he felt it did. He was just so afraid that he was going to go to sleep and find that this was all some dream. At first he'd been hopeful that everything was going to work out for them, in those first few days after he'd lost Logan. He had kept telling himself that everything was just some strange nightmare, that it was all going to work out. But time had passed, and he didn't believe it now. 

"I can't say for certain, and I don't want to lie to you Scott. But I see no reason why he would disappear, if he's back." There was a pause, and then Erik's voice was gentle. "I've spoken to Charles. He's happy to share with you an image of how Logan looks, if you'd like that."

"Please," Scott asked. He knew it was weak to beg, but he couldn't help it, not when he was being offered a chance to see Logan again.

"It's alright," Erik answered quite calmly. There was another pause, and Scott could picture that Erik had his eyes closed, to reach out telepathically to the other man, to check that he would be able to help. Then he caught a glimpse of Logan through the Professor's eyes. He was looking up at Logan across the resk. Logan looked incredible. He was still as strong as ever, wisps of dark hair framing his face. He looked angry.

 _If you need this at any time Scott, you only need to ask._ The professor spoke in his head. _I trust your judgement about this, I think you know what you need._

Scott blinked back tears at that thought. That any time he needed to, he could reach out, and see Logan. The professor had been more than generous over the past three years, both helping Scott with his memories, and allowing him to see through his own eyes. But this was another kindness. A chance to see his lover, if not directly. It wasn't that he needed to see him most of the time. It was just when things went badly, the reassurance of the Professor and the image of Logan was helpful. The glimpse he was given faded, and he was left with his thoughts.

"Are you alright?" Erik asked after a moment. "It... might be hard, to find that he's suddenly back in your life. I know you didn't intend for it."

"I didn't intend for it." Scott agreed. "But I'm glad for it. It's wonderful. More wonderful than anything I could ever dream of."

"That's good." There was a pause. "He's on his way," Erik told him, and then there was the sound of Logan's footsteps.

The footsteps made their way across the floor, pausing in front of him, and then Scott felt strong arms wrapping around his waist, and he leaned down to kiss Scott's cheek. 

Scott shivered a little, reaching out for him and stroking his fingers through his hair. "Are we okay?"

"I'm not sure." Logan answered. "I want to be, but there was some interesting stuff he had to say. You know, he's got one of your models on his desk. A tree."

"I made it for him based on one I destroyed when I was a child," Scott answered, and neither of them said more for a moment, before Logan's hand skimmed down Scott's back to gently squeeze his ass.

"Come on, bed time." Logan muttered.

"It's early in the day."

"I didn't say anything about sleep. He's going to talk to some people about my return, and we've been invited to a group dinner, but before that we've got some time together, and I thought we could relax." The final word was accompanied by Logan leaning in, nuzzling against his throat. Scott rolled his eyes but allowed it, closing his eyes and basking quietly in the attention that was being provided. It felt good, to have Logan there, a solid reassurance after so long, an ache which had always been present. It had hurt so much that he had assumed at points he was imagining what Logan was like. But now here he was, solid and real, and Scott rolled his eyes but stole another kiss because he could.

"That shirt still suits you." Scott told him as they made their way back to their room. "I saw you briefly, through the Professor's eyes."

"You miss it?" Logan asked, sitting on the bed so that he was bracketing Scott between his legs. 

"Well, I noticed how your skin looks against the colour of the shirt." Scott answered. "Before everything was pretty much red, so there wasn't really anything I could notice in terms of colour. Today I could really appreciate how you look."

"Oh?" Logan asked, leaning in for another kiss. 

Scott reached up, gentle fingers brushing along Logan's ribs, before he pulled him in for a kiss. "You really are a very handsome man." As he said that, his nimble fingers explored Logan's features, brushing between his lips, tracing the shape of his jaw. All of it was perfect.

"You really missed me huh? Sad statues and all?"

"I was memorialising you," Scott answered. He was aware it wasn't actually denial about missing Logan, - but he'd got over that denial after Logan's death years before.

"Chuck says he thinks I'm back for good." Logan told him. "He didn't think I would be, but now he thinks... I've at least got a chance. My healing factor seems to be workin', and I've got the claws and stuff, and ..." There was a pause, before more hot kisses rained down on Scott's face. "He's arranged for me to be looked over by Beast tomorrow, check everything's working. He said 'Erik' will bring us dinner later, and I can't believe I fucking missed that one."

"I didn't..." Scott hesitated. "I didn't mean to bring you back." He looked up towards where Logan's voice came from, tilting his head at the right angle. "I mean, if I'd known it was possible, I'd have done it years ago, but- This was just an accident."

"That's okay. It was a good accident, right?" Logan asked. "Means I get to see your pretty face again, Cyke..." 

Scott opened his eyes, and felt Logan tilting his head, examining his sightless eyes.

"Real nice shade of blue you got, Slim. Don't got to hide these pretty eyes any more."

"I'm sorry," Scott whispered. "I ... I know you didn't ask to come back. And you didn't ask for... for this. For whatever I've done to you, and you don't deserve to come back to me when I'm not... not the man you were with." He shivered, and Logan leaned forwards, pulling Scott against his chest and nuzzling his face against his hair.

"You're here. That's a start. A good start, Cyke. We can work with this. Can't do shit when we're not both here, but if we're both here we can do stuff." 

"I'm off the team."

"Yeah, because you're a depressed sack of crap." Logan said with a laugh, and kissed him. "Okay, you don't have your powers any more, but Chuck said the kids have put you through some shit and you're doing well at it. Even little mutants recognise you as a threat, you just can't see it. There's stuff you can do there, you're the one that's writing yourself off."

Scott shrugged.  
"I can't lead a mission."

"Well, no." Logan agreed. "But you can help plan, or help organise, or work with the students. Don't need to send you out in the field for you to help us. I mean, your statues look pretty cool. So do that, if it makes you happy. But if you want more than that, you can get more than that." Logan's hands ran up and down Scott's thighs. "You're the one who has decided you can't do shit."

"Even getting out of bed was a fight without you," Scott muttered, ducking his head, ashamed that he'd somehow not been good enough for Logan. He'd tried, really he had tried, but he hadn't done enough.

"Yeah. But I'm here now," Logan pointed out. "So if it's really me being missing? Then now that's fixed. You can go and do stuff." He sounded like he was smirking, teasing and pushing at Scott's tender points to get him to agree. "It's up to you. No one's going to make you. But I think you should."

"Maybe," Scott muttered. "I dunno what I can still do." It was nice, hearing Logan believed in him, but he wasn't as confident as he had been once. As a child, he'd been sure he was going to be useful, that he'd find a way to make people pleased with him so they'd keep him around. Only now he wasn't useful like that. He shivered, and Logan tilted his head up, pressed lips against his own.

"Want to feel you Cyke. Three years is too long."

"You weren't even aware of it," Scott managed to answer, a faint smile on his lips.

"Maybe not. But I want to make up for lost time. Come on, Boy Scout." Logan leaned in to nibble on Scott's ear, rubbing his ass against Scott's crotch. "You can just sit back and enjoy it. Know you like the sounds I make... want to see if it's still like you remember it being?" Logan asked, as his fingers dipped beneath Scott's shirt, drawing circles on the skin.

"Yeah..." Scott muttered, a little breathless, leaning up into Logan's touch and gasping as Logan stroked him through his pants. It was too sudden, almost rough, and he bucked up towards it. Logan pushed his weight forwards, holding him into place as he rocked against him. He clearly knew what he was doing, stroking Scott again and again, leaning in and sniffing at Scott's throat. "You smell like you're having fun there. You got stuff?"

"Top drawer of the bedside cabinet." Scott answered, before moaning as Logan's mouth found his throat, pressing kisses to the skin there as he peeled away Scott's clothing. He arched up towards him, gasping and moaning in pleasure as Logan slipped down his body, and he found himself surrounded by the warm wet heat of his mouth. He moaned, lost in the sensation, fighting the urge to rock his hips. He could hear noise behind him, Logan taking the top off the lube, and Scott remembered the look Logan got in his eyes as he prepared himself. He groaned, squirming a little before Logan lifted his mouth off. 

Scott felt Logan press a kiss to the tip of his cock, before he moved, and then there were strong arms around his shoulders, and an eager mouth against his own, and Logan sinking down slowly onto him. He moaned out into Logan's mouth, lost in the sensation, his sightless eyes closed tightly as he focused on the pleasure that Logan's body sent through him. His hands stroked down Logan's bare skin.

Logan was never quiet when they fucked, as Scott had first learned in the showers after a long mission. He swore and cursed and hissed and groaned, his grip tight around Scott's shoulders, and Scott allowed himself to just relax into it, to focus on those sounds and the sensation of Logan fucking himself on him, and to forget about all the pain of the last few years. Because he couldn't concentrate on anything but his senses, and Logan leaned in and kissed him, rough and determined and real, and he moaned into his mouth, warning him he was close.

He climaxed, reaching down to wrap his hand around Logan, stroking him quickly as he buried his face against Logan's shoulder, moaning and licking at the sweat-soaked skin.  
"Fuck. Yeah... Cyke... Cyke!" He felt Logan arch up towards him, before hot liquid splattered against Scott's chest, and he was pulled into another kiss.

It took a moment before Logan loosened his grip, pressing gentler kisses to his forehead and lips.  
"That okay, Scotty?"

"Yeah," Scott muttered, tiredness sweeping through him. He felt Logan pull away, and return with a damp cloth, before he found himself pulled into Logan's arms. Logan resumed pressing against him, pulling him close.

"You're trying to make me smell like you?"

"Trying to make you smell right." Logan answered. "So yeah." 

Scott snorted, but didn't stop him. It felt good after so long, to feel Logan wrapping around him. He rolled his eyes when he heard Logan snore, rolling them over so he could get more comfortable, and allowing himself to relax into a brief nap as well, picking his sleeping mask off the side and fastening it across his face before drifting off.

He woke up to Logan's fingers tapping a rhythm against his hip.  
"Hey. Uh, "Erik" is on his way here."

"Oh?" Scott sat up, fumbling around for his clothes. "Logan, stop moving stuff around." He muttered, relaxing only once he'd found his pyjamas and pulled them on. 

There was a knock on the door.

"Come in?" Scott asked, and let Logan settle an arm around his waist as the door opened. He recognised Erik's footsteps.

"Brought the two of you some food, Charles said you might need it." Erik sounded like he was smirking, and Scott paused, turning towards his boyfriend.  
"Logan, are you wearing pants?"

"Nope." Logan said proudly.

"Do you...want to get pants?"

"Not particularly." Logan shrugged, and Scott muttered an apology, feeling himself blush.

"I'll leave you two in peace then." Erik said with a snort. "Do try not to break any of the furniture."

"We will," Logan answered, and Scott was fairly sure he meant that he would break the furniture. It was probably best not to think that through too much. He leaned in and rested his head against Logan's shoulder, enjoying the solid warmth of Logan's body beside him.

"Got you." Scott muttered.

"Yeah." Logan agreed. "You got me. I'm not goin' anywhere now that I'm back." 

Scott smiled to himself, and took the plate when Logan handed it over, resting it against his legs carefully as he found the knife and fork.  
"What is it?"

"Chicken and pasta." Logan answered. "You need me to cut it up?"

"I can do it." Scott answered, then smiled. "But yeah, sure." He heard the sudden noise of Logan's claws emerging, and then the plate was lifted off his lap, returning a few moments later. Scott could hear Logan licking his claws clean. He snorted and rolled his eyes, but ate the food anyway.

The rest of the night was spent relearning each other's bodies, talking and remembering and tasting each other. Logan held him close when he drifted to sleep, and he woke up to find Logan already awake. He spread his legs, letting Logan prep him and push inside, feeling full. Logan was kissing him, his hand between them stroking in time with his thrusts, and everything felt right. 

He came with Logan's name on his lips and Logan filling him, and then Logan helped him to the bathroom. He grabbed the shampoo, getting some on his hands and then rubbing his fingers through Logan's hair. Once they were both clean he guided them out, and passed Logan a spare towel, before they returned to bed, curling up together, naked. Logan was solid and real, and Scott smiled.

"You know, just because I'm off the team, it doesn't mean you have to be. If the scans all say you're okay... you should. You're good there. Just for goodness sake do what you're meant to."

"Oh, I will. No point fucking around if I don't get to piss you off with it," Logan teased, and Scott shook his head fondly. Logan was already adjusting to him, to the fact he wouldn't ever see again. But Logan didn't treat him like he was stupid, or like he was helpless. Scott thought Logan was probably wrong that he could help the students, but it might be worth trying to find out.

"You know," Scott said quietly. "Alex is gonna be mad you took so long to come back."

"I can deal with your brother if I have to," Logan promised. "You're worth it."

For a long time, Scott would have just denied that. He had felt he was useless, or weak, or lost. And things weren't fixed now, not entirely. But there was a chance that things were going to get better, and whether they did or not, he'd be facing whatever came next with Logan by his side.

"We should go down to breakfast," Scott murmured, and even though he couldn't see it, he knew that Logan's eyebrow would be raised. He laughed as Logan pushed him down onto the bed, starting to kiss down his throat.


End file.
